


Sleepwalker

by CheshireCatnip



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gender-Neutral Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Genderless MC, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, MC x Mammon, Mammon in love, Mammon’s drunk and kinda sad, Reader x Mammon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:42:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24333001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheshireCatnip/pseuds/CheshireCatnip
Summary: It’s movie night with Mammon!Only problem is the Avatar of Greed sorta forgot about it.Fluffy, lightly angsty goodness.Check out my other Obey Me fics while you’re at it! c;
Relationships: Main Character & Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Main Character/Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) & Reader, Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader
Comments: 33
Kudos: 549





	Sleepwalker

_“You have **4** new voicemails. Press 1 to listen—”_

**Beep**.

_”Heya, Mammon! I’m just letting you know I’ve got everything ready for the movie. And I found a variety pack of those chips we like! Call me when you get this though, we need—“_

**Beep**.

_”Heyyy, o Great Mammon, you thereee? C’mon and get here already! I’m about to eat without you! ... Okay, I won’t, but seriously, you’re over an hour—”_

**Beep**.

_”Hey, it’s getting really late... where are—”_

**Beep**.

 _“Uh, hey, sorry to call again, but... Just... let me know you’re alright soon, okay? ...You make me worry sometimes, you know that?”_

**Beep**.

A half sigh, half groan permeated from the Avatar of Greed. He dropped his phone into his lap, overdue realization washing over him in the backseat of the cab. 

_Shit. The movie thing was tonight?_

His D.D.D. showed it was a quarter after four o’clock in the morning. Had he really been at The Fall that long? He’d only meant to stop by briefly after his last class, but then he’d ran into some demons there handing out free rounds, and then he’d started handing out rounds to show them up, and well... he couldn’t even recall how many rounds it had gone for. All he knew was that Goldie was definitely gunna be feeling it tomorrow. 

Oh, and he definitely knew he was drunk. 

He also felt a gnawing sadness worming it’s way to settle somewhere in the depth of his stomach. 

His human had sounded progressively more distraught over the phone. His mind echoed the cracked, abandoned tone that had worked its way into your last voicemail to him. He’d really made you worry? 

The cab pulled up to the House of Lamentation more quickly than Mammon had prepared. There was slim to none chance that he would be able to slip in without alerting Lucifer. Surely the eldest knew of the demon’s absence; he’d quite obviously missed dinner. 

The demon of Greed actually remembered to toss some Grimm at the cab driver before stumbling onto the lawn. He peered up at the towering structure that was his home, anxious to enter. 

The empty quiet of the house gave him the indication he just may have successfully snuck in for once. Trudging through the foyer and up the staircase to the second level proved to him just how long he’d been out. He had no energy left. He truly just wanted to fall into bed and allow himself a good wallow in self pity. 

He finally reached his door, swinging it open. Had it always been so far to his room? He slipped the door shut behind him as quietly as he could manage, feeling like he could finally relax. 

And if relax meant ‘feel like utter shit about himself,’ then relax he did. 

He left his light off, letting his windows be the main source of dim lighting to illuminate his shame.

Taunting him, an ode to his failure to you, was the sitting area in front of his flatscreen. His couch piled up with blankets and pillows from your room, his coffee table covered in snacks you’d picked out with him earlier in the week. His TV glowed a forgotten blue, the console having powered down on the movie screen Diavolo only knows how long ago. 

He couldn’t help the slump of his shoulders. 

He sauntered over to the couch, feeling more defeated than expected. He plopped down, bundling a hand into the comforter he recognized from your bed. Had you planned to spend the night? 

Well, shit, if that didn’t just make him all the more sad. 

He let his head fall back to the couch, staring at his ceiling. He wondered if you had went to sleep worried, thinking about the scummy moron that made up your guardian. The dull ache of knowing he’d probably disappointed you sobered him up more than he’d care to admit. 

It had been weeks of his pressuring to get you to agree to a solo movie night with the demon of Greed. You were so courteous that you didn’t want the other brothers feeling left out, but eventually even they got tired of Mammon’s incessant begging and had given both of you their blessing. 

Finally, a movie night with you all to himself.

And here he’d forgotten about it. 

He frowned at his ceiling, stifling another sigh. Well, he was just absolutely pitiful right now, wasn’t he? 

Gazing back down to the cotton of your comforter, Mammon simply let himself feel upset. Sometimes he really did feel like the scummy, worthless one. Getting people’s hopes up just to never meet the mark. 

Not that he really cared about disappointing anyone other than you, though.

His sapphire eyes turned to scan over the table once more. Upon closer inspection, he noted two of his favourite spicy ramen cups, brewed for his arrival to share with you. At the corner of the table was the DVD case of the movie he’d mentioned to you in passing awhile back, having told you how much of a Devilwood classic it was. 

He picked up the case, looking it over. You’d even rented the director’s cut. 

At this rate, he just wanted to sleep the melancholy away. He’d have to wrack his brain sometime tomorrow to figure out how to make this up to you. 

Dropping the case back to the table, he rose from the couch and began to peel off his jacket. He got caught in a yawn as he turned to face his bed, stretching his coat down his arms when—

You were in his bed. 

You were asleep in his bed, actually. 

His coat fell the rest of the way off his frozen body, and he hushed a curse at it to be quiet as the zipper clattered against the floor. He turned his eyes back to you, shocked beyond shock to witness you there. 

You curled, draped in his white sheets, clasping one of his pillows flush to the side of your face. 

He faintly caught himself wondering if he was imagining things. Sure, he had tried to coax you into sharing his bed with him in the past, but you were always too modest. You didn’t like the idea of choosing favourites so obviously when it came to the brothers. Mammon was too much of a dope to realize your clear fondness for him, though. He was always too busy trying to mask his own liking for you. 

He treaded nearer to you carefully, like approaching a newborn faun. He was unwilling to disturb your slumber. To see you in his bed like this, it hit him somewhere deep in his chest.

He stepped out of his shoes as he reached the side of bed you had left free, and sat down without thought. 

Up close now he could really take in the sight of you. The dark of the room did little to hide you from his curious gaze. 

The slow, steady rise and fall of your chest told him that you’d been asleep awhile. That brought him both comfort and guilt. Comfort, because clearly you felt enough ease with him to wrap yourself in the scent of his slumber and drift to a comfortable sleep. Guilt, because no doubt you’d stayed awake here as long as your mortal body allowed, just waiting for Mammon to show. 

You laid on your side facing him, only halfway covered by blanket. The demon let whatever instinct he felt move him to draw nearer to you, pulling the blanket up to better cover you. 

You stirred briefly, relaxing a hand from around his pillow to lay flat on the bed, palm up. He stilled himself, for a long time not daring to even breathe. 

Once you seemed encompassed by dreams yet again, Mammon allowed himself to study every detail of your form. 

Under the bedsheet, he saw you wore a loose graphic t-shirt, one you’d arrived here with. It was heavily worn, thin with age, and clung to your shape a bit too well. The blanket was haphazardly thrown across your hips, obscuring the majority of your thighs and leaving him wondering if you were wearing shorts as the expanse of your legs laid bare in the open. 

He watched your eyelids flutter, your sleep tousled hair tickling your face. 

Before he registered that he was even moving, he’d stretched out alongside you to mirror your posture. He propped his head up in his palm, still drinking in the sight of you so peaceful before him. 

You didn’t _look_ worried. That was good. He’d really have to kick himself if he found out he’d truly upset you, god forbid made you cry or something. But your eyes seemed dry, no signs of an emotional sleep. Good. Maybe he could redeem himself yet. 

The demon of Greed never expected in all his millennia to feel whatever it was he felt for you. He didn’t care to admit its legitimacy, but he thought of you more than he ever thought about swiping Goldie, buying that new watch or sports car or renting the latest jet ski. 

Actually, he’d started keeping a little box under his bed with backup Grimm in it for whenever you wanted to go somewhere with him. It’s not like there was _much_ in it a lot of the time, but you never wanted him for his material shit anyways. He really liked that about you. Your greed only displayed itself in your love for those around you. 

Mammon didn’t notice the small smile he wore as he watched your sleepy breaths escape your lips. You had taught him so much over the course of your stay in the demon world. None of the sins had expected a human to have such an impact, but especially Greed. He had felt so hopelessly stuck in his ways before you came to be...

Not to say he wasn’t still Greedy! It just, it was different now. He yearned for different things now.

Suddenly your face scrunched up, displeasure gracing your features and making you rigid. He startled, protective instincts screaming at him to hold you, but he just—

He couldn’t. 

One of his hands drifted very near to your face, balanced in the air. Too cautious to actually touch your skin. Was cautious the word, though? Or was it just how inadequate he felt to be in your presence, how in awe he was of this vulnerability you didn’t know you were sharing with him? 

A squeak shrouded in your pain echoed in his ears, and this time he let that hand in the air weave through your hair, stroking the side of your face. Lulling you to the best of his ability. 

Ease graced over your expression instantly at his touch. His heart skipped at the change. 

The desire to match your state of comfort hit him low in his bones. 

Slowly, he scooted to place his own heated cheek into the palm of yours nearest him, open and fingers lightly curled. The pads of your fingers brushed his hairline, and he relished in the sensation of being held. He exhaled, eyes closing, the weight of a billion things flooding out of him all at once. 

Each of you laid mirroring the pose of the other. Two right hands cupped two soft cheeks weary with sleep. Your breaths mingled with his, and he tilted his head closer in your hand to set his forehead against your own.

He didn’t mean to drift off as quickly as he did. The peace of you beside him melted into his being, hushing his mind quickly to dream state. 

.................................................................

The sound of the door shutting, a fairly solid thunk, mixed with the slow shuffling of Mammon’s feet woke you rather abruptly. 

He didn’t bother to turn on his light, so you took advantage of both the dark and your far proximity to open your eyes, watching him from where you laid in his bed. 

If you weren’t so absolutely _irked_ , you may have felt embarrassed about having fallen asleep in the demon’s bed. Really, you’d only meant to rest your eyes for a moment, and the couch just hadn’t been laying right and—honestly, that was all beside the point. 

The point was that Mammon had _forgotten about you_. There was no way around it. 

You had been eagerly looking forward to this movie night with him since it had been set in stone. There’d been a big, lopsided smiley face marked on your calendar for a couple weeks now reminding you of the event. Not that you had needed reminding to remember, though, unlike a certain other someone. 

Not daring to stir and alert the demon of your consciousness, you simply let your eyes follow him to the couch. He plopped down, faced away from you, and you noted his consideration of the items you’d prepared around him. 

You only started to feel somewhat bad for the demon when you watched him drop his head back against the couch, looking up to the ceiling soundlessly. He stayed like that for quite a time; long enough for you to question if he’d fallen asleep, until you saw his head rock forward again towards the table. 

The slight glare of light off the plastic DVD case let you know that he held it now, turning it over a couple times in his hands. 

Awhile back, Mammon had mentioned a movie to you that he hadn’t seen in a long time. Apparently he hadn’t been able to bring himself to watch it again. You’d done a little more prying than you should have, and learned that it was a horror movie he’d watched with Lilith. It was one of the only scary movies he could stomach, because she had shown it to him. It had been a little familiar to you, actually, and you ironically noted it’s name: Rosemary’s Hellspawn.

He’d ended up having a nightmare about it, and Lilith had stayed with him that night to make sure he was okay. 

When he had mentioned that movie to you, he said he really thought you should see it, it being a classic. 

He had bashfully followed up with saying, _”It’s pretty scary, s-so, if ya need someone to make sure ya don’t freak, just call on THE Mammon, got it?”_

You lightly fisted the sheet around you tighter, remembering how much you’d appreciated the sentiment. The memory tasted stale now in the wake of your frustration. 

Your attention drew back to Mammon when you heard the case drop back onto the table. He stood now, the undeniable sag of his shoulders illuminated by moonlight from his windows. 

You quickly feigned deep sleep when he twisted to face his bed, and in turn, you. 

The sound of something hitting the floor nearly made you startle, but you proudly kept yourself in check. You didn’t hear anything for a moment, and then there were careful footsteps closing in. 

You breathed in and out steadily, slow like you were attempting to meditate. 

A weight sank down into the bed near you. The sensation of eyes on you prickled your skin, taunting you to give up your charade and peer back at the demon. Steel resolve bubbled in your core, and you stayed put like a champ. 

Until you felt the blanket around you being stretched up to tuck under your head, the warmth of a hand grazing your chin. You sincerely hoped he didn’t notice the slight hitch in your breath, but you sent a decoy by way of relaxing a hand onto the bed. 

You sensed Mammon freeze, possibly afraid he’d woken you. You couldn’t hear his breaths for several moments. They returned shortly after, though more shallow than before. 

For several minutes there existed no other sound than each of your quiet breaths filling the room, no accompanied movement. Then you felt the Avatar of Greed recline next to you, quite close, if the heat off him was any accurate indication. 

The scent of cologne mixed with the afterthought of bourbon wafted over you, not entirely unpleasant, but your face reacted before you knew it. You tried to rectify the slip up by easing your expression into discomfort, trying to seem in the throes of a bad dream. You waited half a moment before emitting your best impression of a shaky, sleep fueled whine.

The gentle caress of a hand against your cheek pulled you right out of your mock nightmare. Fingers softly tangled into your hair. 

The depth of your grudge fell away at his touch. You inwardly nagged yourself for being so easily placated, but the moment was so tender, so real. 

The Avatar of Greed, the physical embodiment of one of humanity’s truest sins, wanted to console his human through something as trivial as a (fake) bad dream. The thought alone filled you with butterflies. 

The gentle movement of his hand in your hair coasted to a halt, settling to cup the side of your face. 

And as if any more of your prior disposition against the demon sought to remain, it utterly and truly melted away when you felt him place his cheek in your upturned hand. Your heart raced the instant you registered the position, feeling him marginally adjust to really settle into your palm. 

Even with your eyes closed, you sensed the perfect mirror of your positions, a reflection of each other like yin and yang. The visual in your head of how you looked together sent your heart soaring. The emotions in you became nearly too much to handle when you felt his forehead press into your own, and this time you couldn’t stop yourself from opening your eyes. 

Thank Diavolo, his eyes were closed. 

The Avatar of Greed laid perfectly still against you, appearing in every sense to already be asleep. 

His breath met yours in short wafts. You could smell the conditioner in his hair, subtle and earthy. The faint glow of alcohol shown in the tan complexion of his face, fading. Up close, you could see the ghosts of white freckles spotting his nose, making you smile. 

You resolved yourself to know that there would be other movie nights.

**Author's Note:**

> I figured some fluff was pretty well-due after my prior smut fic. :) This idea caught in my head and wouldn’t go away until I wrote it down. 
> 
> As always, kudos, comments, and constructive criticism are super appreciated!


End file.
